Good morning world

Good morning world and good morning to your efforts to try to convince me that racism is not racism and is in fact free speech. Nice try! Thanks for an inspiring life lesson.

Disclaimer

I think I have to get a lawyer to draft a disclaimer for me which will be attached to all comments I make on social media and even go at the end of my E-mail signature. 

The disclaimer will say that Farzana Rasheed does not condone violence, terrorism, terrorism of any kind, state or non-actor type, peadophiles, abuse of women and children by priests and mullahs, violence in the name of religion, forced conversions, massacres of minorities, violence against women and children, violence against journalists, violence against animals, emotional and physical abuse, arms trade, nuclear proliferation, empire, slavery, colonialism, proxy wars, destruction of the environment, discrimination, racism, institutional racism, passive aggressive racism, blind racism, police brutality, occupation, apartheid, sex trafficking, prostitution, child prostitution, child marriages, racist propaganda, violence against gay people, hate speech, fascist regimes, religious fascism, female genital mutilation, religious fundamentalism, acid attacks, honour killings, rape, gang rape, suicide bombing, etc.

Daal chawal

Daal chawal is one of my fall-back options for dinner or lunch when I can't thing of what to make. And, if I may say so, I usually make quite a tasty daal that not only fills you up but is really delicious. 

This is what I did after our Sunday walk. And as you can see I garnished and cooked with lots of fresh parsley. I also made a Greek salad. 

Sunday walk

This time our Sunday walk took us all the way from Randall Street to Mamba Point, past the American Embassy, past the Masonic Lodge, and up to Ducor hotel where we watched the sun go down over the Atlantic Ocean. It was a fantastic invigorating walk. We ran into a couple of people we had met earlier, one from UNMIL and one from UNDP, both who were armed with fancy looking DSLR cameras, probably trying to take some arty farty photos at the Ducor which as become for photographers, bloggers, and even fashion designers a favourite backdrop for artful moments.

Happy new year

After a build up of excitement and wild plans to celebrate New Year's eve in Kendeja or Libassa, Haresh comes down with a seemingly debilitating cold. Stayed in. Made dinner at home - keema koftas which turned out to be delicious for which Haresh made an appearance . Grudgingly. And got to watch this impressive line up of films on DSTV's MNET Action Channel 6: Sharknado, Shaknado 2 and Two Headed Shark Attack! 

Happy new year to everyone! 

Day 1 of 2015 has been full of light so far. We have had LEC all morning!

Breakfast by candlelight

My usual routine for the days I have morning work out is to make breakfast. This morning, it was pretty dark so I lit some candles. The generator has already been running all night so I couldn't turn it back on. Usually we have the news on (Al Jazeera English, Channel 406 on DSTV) but this morning, I played some home videos on my laptop and we had a few chuckles.

Good evening from our rooftop

The Lying Bastard

It is kind of befitting that after I waxed lyrical over the handiwork of Oliver the generator technician, he left us in the lurch and now he is hereby referred to as the lying bastard.

The night he got our generator started we paid Oliver $ 40.00 and he was supposed to come back the next day to finish the job. The generator wouldn't start otherwise.

The man did not show up the next day. Naturally I blamed Haresh and he and I had a terrific row and I and Kavita went to sleep at a friend's while the poor guy slept in the dark.

Next day, we made up and went up and down Monrovia looking for a generator mechanic. Thankfully, we found one who got our generator working and we slept fine that night.

So much for that!

In an artist's studio

I was struck by the bright and funky colours a boy was was painting his bicycle with.  I felt I was in an artist's studio: paint brushes, colours on the pavement and a boy with a fierce haircut. 

The Machinist

As everyone knows, LEC (Liberia Electricity Corporation) is not only extremely expensive but also inconsistent. One needs a back up generator to complement the frequent power outages which come and go unannounced, like mood swings. Last night we learned one actually needs back up generator A and back up generator B just in case the first one gives up because LEC outages are getting longer and longer. So, our one and only back up generator stopped working yesterday and, we asked a generator technician to repair it for us. Oliver has often times helped us get the generator working, even come late at night. He started working at 6 the evening and did not finish until 11 PM.

During this time, we came home and because there was no light, we went off to have dinner out at Mama Susu's where I met an extremely fascinating personality and talked with non stop about philosophy, religion, feminism, and politics. It's so nice to meet someone who hates small talk as much as you do and would rather indulge in more interesting talk. My new friend even came over to have a drink on our rooftop because we were sure the generator would have been repaired by then. But it was not repaired even at 10 PM. 

We enjoyed our sitting corner, lit with candles, had a drink and enjoyed the view of the city. Our view has actually become quite obstructed in the past couple of years with newly constructed buildings but we can still spot Ducor Hotel and the Ministry of Finance. Our guest telephoned her husband in Delhi to let him know what she was up to. We talked a bit more on the very limited and ephemeral social scene in Monrovia. It was one of those stream of consciousness conversations where your ideas become even more lucid.

My other good friend called and said he doubted the generator would come back on and, he had put on the AC in the guest room just in case. I thanked him and mentally prepared having to trudge over to his place at night, gathering our clothes and toothbrushes in the dark, in case the generator did not come on. I continued my chat with my new friend. Kavita was pottering around in the rooftop, completely oblivious to the dark, and Haresh was desperately trying to stay awake. It was way past his bed time.

After my friend left, we watched more closely what Oliver was doing. Earlier, we had used an extension cord, borrowing electricity from our neighbours, to give us light up there. Our friendly neighbour decided it was much too generous of him to give us one light bulb's worth of electricity and cut it off. We all cursed him "Wicked man, how can he do that?" That collective complaining entertained us for a bit. Oliver said "All Lebanese are the same!" So, Oliver worked in the dark aided only by the torch light app on two mobile phones and an actual slim torchlight in between his lips. I watched him in fascination as he put all the generator parts back together, in the dark. His hands seemed to know the whole machine so well, as they worked the machine, rolling cables in their place, screwing back nuts, and tapping the battery. I wondered how the heck would this machine-beast start working again, since most of it lay spread all over the concrete floor, its parts, nuts and bolts, like innards spilled out from a gut.  

While we watched Oliver work his craft, this is the genius conversation we had:

Is a generator like a car engine?
No.
Why?
A car engine has several cylinders, a generator only has one. A generator is a much simpler machine.
Does a generator have horsepower?
Yes.
You know what horsepower means, don't you?
Yes.
When cars first came round, people still drove in horse-drive carriages and an engine's power was measure by horse power. Get it? 

Humph!

Oliver started putting back the whole machine back together and, I couldn't believe that it was actually going to work. All parts were assembled and put back in place where just now they had lain scattered on the concrete floor. But by all the horsepower of several car engines, Oliver got the machine working again. Smoke was billowing up from the top and, it roared like an engine does. He asked Haresh to go down and switch the power to generator. A few minutes later, the lights on the rooftop came on. Yoo hoo! I was gobsmacked and impressed at having witnessed a technical wonder.

We paid Oliver his fees and gave transportation money to Frank, our office assistant, who had been there the whole evening helping Oliver, mainly by giving him light from a mobile phone. 

It was captivating  to see an expert at work, a craftsman who skillfully repaired a faulty machine in the dark. 

In the morning we learned that neither Frank nor Oliver had managed to get back home and had to sleep on Broad Street. I felt guilty - as I usually do - at the contrasting lives my staff and I lead. 

I wonder if the average person in Liberia, trying to make ends meet, has a voice like that in How to Get Filthy Rich in Rising Asia  and loathes richer, snobbier folks like me. 

A cranky Christmas

After I had my parathas rudely insulted yesterday morning, I wake up this morning to aloo parathas which Haresh had been perfecting all morning. 

I'm having a funny Christmas holiday so far. 

In fact speaking of, last night I overheard some American guys exchanging man talk at a house party and one of the questions to the group was "Which is the strangest place you've been at Christmastime?" Before anyone else could respond, this fellow answered his own question by saying, "Liberia!" Then, he delved into his Christmas experience in "Moslem countries like Abu Dhabi."

I had a really lousy day yesterday, mostly prompted by my crankiness and completely impatience with my staff, especially since I've been working up to have a pleasant Christmas with my staff. I was sulking for most of the day. 

But back to the parathas. Since I've been back from Pakistan and since I started my 3-times-a-week morning workouts with Ashland, I've been making breakfast of parathas and omlettes or just with plain yoghurt.  In fact, I've got pretty good at it. It's a far cry from when I first tried to make them - flour all over the floor and table top, gooey dough everywhere and the smell of burnt parathas.

I start my exercise at 6:30 up on the roof and am down at 7:30 or quarter to 8 AM. I get started on breakfast and Haresh and I have it together before he goes off to the office, leaving me behind to get Kavita and myself ready. The most irritating thing about Haresh is that he doesn't do the obligatory "Very good!" for my cooking. Insult on injury, he disparages and yesterday crossed the line by actually insulting my parathas.

So, not only do women have to contend with sexism but also endure taunts that men can do everything better than women, including cooking! 

So, I was in a cranky mood but was determined to have a pleasant morning and afternoon as planned. As planned for quite a while as I do every year since I started the company.

In the spirit of things, I've been celebrating Christmas at the office almost every year (except for the year I was in Chicago on maternity leave) with my staff. We have a Christmas tree, we do the Secret Santa gift exchange, disburse salaries around then, and have lunch or snacks together before we close shop for Christmas. I also try to decorate the office. 

Part of the end of year ritual is also submitting a post for our company blog. Not only is this towards my exhausting but unwavering effort to improve my staff's communication skills and to teach them to express themselves but also rounds up the year in a reflective way. 

Not only don't my staff submit their reports on time but my most senior staff throws a tantrum because his first submission was a bit of a cut and paste job. We asked him to do it again. That was on Monday. 

Yesterday, the plan was to exchange gifts, have some snacks and close up for the day. Salaries were also disbursed in the morning. It seemed no one had bought their gifts and everyone disappeared after they were paid trying to buy their gifts last minute. By 3 PM no one was back and I was sitting at the conference room table waiting for 4 of my 7 staff! I just lost! I threw a huge tantrum and, stormed out of the office. As we were closing up, our staff started trickling in, infuriating me even further. 

I went home and took a nap. 

I should not have lost it but we sometimes do lose it. I'm actually surprised I lost it after so long because I thought I was done with my "losing it" days. 

I was really frustrated that after quite a long time, the relationship with my staff remains quite one sided and despite efforts to do things which would help us bond, it doesn't work. I can't believe everyone waited until they received their salary to actually go and buy gifts! I was very upset to see that no thought had gone into it at all despite repeated reminders. I also don't buy the I'm-so-broke-I-need-my-salary-before-I-can-participate-in-this-activity. Everyone's salary has been increased, medical expenses are supported by the company and moreover, we have even helped with rent this year for a couple of the staff. 

The same thing happened a couple of years ago when we invited our staff for a lunch out and, two of our staff didn't show up without even informing us. 

Anywhere else, you are obligated to participate in the company or organisation's events. Even if you have to pretend you are loving it, you make the effort. It just seems to be the opposite here. 

Most of my staff has only started working in an office with us. They have been taught how to be professional and their skills by us. They are also from simple, humble backgrounds and live in communities with not much of the luxuries I enjoy at my apartment. But I still try to hold my staff to higher standards and, try to cultivate the best in them. I don't think it is much to ask of them to participate in a simple office ritual that builds a friendly atmosphere. 

It is what it is - my staff can sometimes behave like irresponsible and lazy people. And, I was definitely not interested in waiting for them so we could have the ceremony, enjoy some memorable moments and have a nice staff Christmas. I am the boss and my sense of boss over powered all other emotions.

So, after my restful nap, we were going to join our friend at a house party. While I was getting ready, I tried on a few of my old kameezes and felt extremely frustrated and annoyed because they were too tight. I took one kameez off after another and as I built up a bit of sweat I felt very angry at how much weight I've put on, especially after Kavita came along. It's going to take a lot of hard work if I am going to shed this weight and get back into some of my favourite kameezes. 

We arrived at this house party but instantly realised this was not going to be Kavita's scene. It was on a huge balcony at a house next to Anglers. It was a balmy evening and the place was only lit up with a few candles. There was a good mix of people. There were some lousy appetisers and a few drinks there and, many people were dressed to kill. I felt like the odd person out with a toddler who would start interrupting me as soon as I tried to strike up a conversation. So, I ended up hearing bits of other conversations, like the "Liberia is the weirdest place I've ever been for Christmas."

I forgot to add that our neighbour, the owner of Geochris, had passed away the night before. It struck a shocking and rather gloomy end to the day. We talked about it for some part of the party with our friend, cynically remarking on how life goes on for all of us, drinking at a house party on Christmas day while he was gone and had left a wife and kids behind.

We called a cab and took ourselves to what seemed to the homeliest option: Mama Susu's. It was quite dead at her place but it was nice to see a familiar motherly figure on Christmas eve. Haresh ordered an omlette and I my favourite baked chicken. Kavita went off to play with Florence in the kitchen.

In all the years I've been Liberia, I've adopted Christmas as a holiday that must be celebrated. Do as the locals do, no? It is the most important holiday of the year and, over the years, I've come to really cherish this time of the year. I've also had some fun times over the years, including hosting some nice Christmas day parties. 

If I'm here next year again for Christmas, I'm going to host a dinner party myself and, cook up a storm! I want to make more of an active contribution to the day I will have on a festive day instead of waiting nice stuff to happen.  My staff can go to hell in the meantime. So can Haresh's parathas.